Not Worth Saving
by InspiringLight
Summary: Set during 3x10. Stefan has the habit of saving Damon whether or not his feelings are switched on or off, even if Damon doesn't want to be saved. Angry and reckless, how will Damon react, knowing that once again Klaus' shadow still towers over them? "This, little brother, is what I want." AU, rated T because of language.
1. Chapter 1

**Not Worth Saving**

I lived much longer than I had ever intended.

Forgot life's lessons; they no longer mattered.

I screamed and raged and hit and burned,

It was just too late for me to turn.

And as I fall and push you down,

I hope you remember that…

I'm just not worth it.

Anonymous

* * *

This will be a two-shot. Occurs during Season 3 Episode 10. Might be a little (or a lot) OOC. I just had this idea and couldn't get it out of my head. What if Damon really became so frustrated with Stefan for saving him again and again (not that I'm complaining)? Especially when there are consequences to that?

Do read and review!

P.S. I will update my other fic 'The Edge' soon!

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.

* * *

"When are you are going to get it through your head?" Damon shoves the wooden branch into his brother's chest. His face twists as he pushes himself to his feet. "Stop saving me."

Stefan falls back to the ground, groaning.

After everything that they had gone through, after all those screams and fights and anger…that _pain_, how can his little brother ruin it all? How can he _save_ him? Brittle, raw anger explodes in his mind.

The older Salvatore doesn't look back as he walks away. Frankly, he doesn't think Stefan deserves it.

* * *

"Even in his darkest place my brother still can't let me die."

_[June 24, 1860]_

"_You shouldn't have to join the army, Damon." Stefan tenses, his hands fisting by his sides when Damon shrugs. How could he take this so lightly? Doesn't he understand what being in the service meant? He could… His forehead knits, and he is suddenly hit with the notion that his brother may well and truly _die_. "I don't want you to go," he rushes out._

_Damon glances at the tightened grip on his arm before his gaze levels steadily with Stefan's. His sharp blue eyes seem to soften. "I know, brother." A small grin plays on his lips. "Trust me, I know."_

"_Then don't go. You don't even believe in the ideals the Confederate Army has been preaching about." Stefan's forest green eyes turn imploring. "You don't have to fight for nothing, Damon."_

"_You'll be fine, Stefan. You don't need your older brother here anymore."_

_A mixture of shock and indignation flits across the fourteen-year-old's features. "The only one who can decide that is me."_

_Damon appraises his brother for a moment, etching his image in his mind. His hair has only just turned from a light blonde to a lighter brown. He is certainly growing taller, and the older Salvatore even anticipates his little brother may even surpass him in height one day. His eyes are bright, reminiscent of the fields he used to visit with their late mother. He misses her, he realizes. Misses that she is no longer there to guide them. Regrets that Stefan could not be graced with the years that he had had with a loving mother by his side._

_It is with a start that he sees that Stefan is no longer the little boy who used to follow him around blindly. This Stefan can make his own decisions now. This Stefan doesn't need him anymore. Damon allows himself to feel that tender wave of affection for a moment, before coating it with a fierce sense of duty._

_If only his brother knew how much he reminds him of their mother. Even though Damon was the one who took after her with his ebony dark hair, pale skin and clear blue eyes._

_He turns his head away and stares off into the distance. They were just a few miles off the Salvatore Estate, away from the servants and their father; their neighbors and the Council; their few friends and the ladies. No, today is just the two brothers on a small trip together. Damon thinks he smiles._

_The fields seem to stretch into more green until they are stopped at the base of a small hill. They are surrounded by tall oak trees with pink lavender flowers littering its bases. Placing a hard calloused hand above his eyes, Damon can't quite recall the last time he saw anything so…peaceful._

_Can't quite reconcile that he is going to war soon._

_War is squelching crimson-soaked mud beneath your feet as you stumble to rejoice another day done; a day of murder and desperate screams as life passes some by. And those are only the beginnings, he knows. He heard the stories._

_Not many return; if they do, they are no longer the same._

_And as of yet, he still can never see himself staring someone in the eye and pulling the trigger._

"_Damon?"_

_Warmth touches his exposed neck and he flinches._

"_Are you okay?" Stefan's eyes are pinched with worry._

_A smooth smile falls into place easily. "Yeah. Just anxious about the days that await me."_

_Something flickers and lurches in his brother's gaze. Moving away, he drops himself a few yards from his brother onto the dirt-caked ground._

_Damon frowns at this. Is something wrong with Stefan? Is he falling sick? He wonders briefly if asking for his brother's company that day is a mistake. "Are you alright, Stefan? Do you need me to take you back?"_

_Stefan doesn't answer immediately and older man can't deny the increasing concern that creeps into his veins. "You're wrong, you know."_

_Damon almost pulls back, surprised. He waits for Stefan to elaborate, knowing that his brother never needs prodding to explain his little insecurities. At least, not to him. He is suddenly overwhelmed with the inexplicable feeling of possessiveness and gratitude. His brother's faith and trust in him…it is something that belongs only to him._

_He will never let it go._

"_I do need you." The younger of the two pulls his knees up to his chest and hugs them. "What am I to do with you gone on the battlefield while I read books all day to please our dear father?"_

_Damon doesn't hesitate. "Do your best to uphold the family name. I shall carry out my duty by doing what is expected of me."_

"_Which is to place bullets in those who do not believe in the adult's so-called ideals?" Stefan glares at the grass beneath his feet, his fingers tugging at their roots. "I know you don't believe in any of that 'carrying of the names that we hold' nonsense, Damon. I know you better than that. So don't you try to pull that on me and expect me to throw you colored confetti to send you off on your journey." He shifts his hardened gaze to his brother. "I won't hear of it."_

_If the older's gaze falters, neither brother acknowledges it. "I know, Stef. I just hoped that it would be easier for you that way."_

_Stefan lets out a _huff_. "That's impossible."_

"_Stefan-"_

"_Of all things, you just had to volunteer your service when so many others could easily take your place. This isn't your job!"_

_The beginnings of anger stir in his chest at this but Damon closes his eyes. His brother doesn't understand. Any other time and he would have given Stefan a good telling off for showing such disrespect. "It doesn't matter what you say. I have to do this. Don't let us argue when I have to leave in a few days, Stefan."_

_Stefan doesn't back down. "What about after, brother? That one day I might receive news that my brother have died for a cause he doesn't believe in, and that I had willingly sent him off to his death?"_

_Something in Damon snap and his eyes turn fierce. "No! That I fulfilled my duty as your older brother by stopping _you _from having to go when _you're_ older!"_

_The fire in the younger's eyes vanish. He reels back in shock. "W-what?"_

_Damon's shoulders slump. "I just…I have to do it, okay?"_

_It takes Stefan a few stunned seconds to digest his words. His brother's words echoes in his ears. Understanding dawns on his features. Their father had so nicely put together a string of words to pacify him that Damon would be okay. That he has no need to worry._

_His hair wisps in the wind, a telling that a storm may be due._

War isn't as scary as people make it out to be, Stefan. All he has to do is pick up the gun and shoot.

_His eyes flash in anger. It had all been planned from the start. It is no wonder his father had seemed overly pleased and less surprised at Damon's quiet obedience; going so far as to allow him to do as he wishes until he leaves for the battlefield._

You brother will be fine.

_His eyes flash in anger. "I will talk to father."_

"_Don't. I cannot go back on my word."_

"_He is _threatening _you by using _me_. Don't let him do this!"_

"_I already have, Stefan."_

_He growls and moves away. He feels like a coward. Not brave enough to go to war himself, too afraid to provoke any deep-rooted anger, too pathetic to leave the place he calls home, and too selfish to let his brother go. His shoulders slump in defeat. "I'm not worth it, Damon," he whispers._

_Damon shakes his head in calmed acceptance. "No, I'm the one who's not."_

_The older Salvatore only smiles as his younger brother protests._

"_So what have you bought me for my birthday, little brother? It's only in a few days."_

…

_As the months fade into years, he can never deny the warm feeling that sneaks into his heart whenever Stefan welcomes him home._

_It's the same feeling that helps him pull through every time he stands on the blood splattered ground, when he wakes from the screams of the fallen and those left behind…_

…_and especially when he pulls the trigger._

"Because you have so much to live for, so much going for you. I…I can't take that away from you."

* * *

The hardest battle is to keep on living.

Anonymous

* * *

"You know what I can't figure out?" It's the first question that comes to mind. "Why save me? Is it brotherly love?" His voices turn mocking. "Guilty conscience? Is the switch on, is the switch off?"

Stefan stands leaning against a pillar, a smirk firmly etched on his features. He doesn't hesitate to interrupt. "Don't you have somewhere to be, Damon?"

"Ah, deflection." It's not hard, this game of shooting and being shot back. He's played it for so long it's become second nature to him. "It's not going to work on me. I invented that."

"We're done. So why don't you just go away?"

"Not until you tell me why you saved me. You owe me that."

Stefan grips the branch of the tree. His gaze focuses on his brother, calculating. "I don't owe you anything."

Damon nods and quirks his eyebrows in mock understanding. "So you went behind _my_ back to stop _my_ plans to kill Klaus to save _me_. I should think you owe me an answer. Brother."

"I said I don't owe you anything."

He narrows his eyes at this. "Do you realize the consequences of what you've done?"

Stefan blinks. "I know Klaus has to be punished in every way possible."

"He _could_ have already been dead," Damon snaps. "There was only one way to kill him and you blew it."

The younger Salvatore doesn't answer for a moment. "You would have died."

"I never said I wanted to be saved."

Anger crowned with the bitterness of guilt seeps into his mind and his stomach convulses. Klaus should have died. It didn't matter what happened to him after. All the drama, all those nights of endless worry and planning, all those fight or flight situations…it shouldn't have to happen anymore.

Damon still remembers that moment of adrenaline that pumped through his veins as the stake hovered over the Original's heart. The latter's eyes had widened in plain disbelief, a grimace tearing at his lips; his supposed last breaths smelled of liquor and something between mint and caffeine. It is how the Salvatore had thought it would end. Klaus Michaelson just _had_ to die.

So Elena could live the life she wanted.

So his brother could finally be free.

…everyone could be free.

"Damon?" The word drops heavily, questioning.

"You don't get it, do you, Stefan?"

Stefan lifts his chin as those ever familiar creases hints on his forehead. He doesn't respond.

Damon almost has to choke back a hysterical laugh. Eyes intense with a taunting sneer in their depths, he backs away from his brother, the soft sound of his footsteps against the grass the only noise around them. He notices a flicker of…anxiety? Confusion? Worry? He can no longer tell. Where is the brother that beamed at him at a joke? Where is the one who would believe and do anything that he says?

The ebony-haired vampire can still recall a much younger Stefan presenting him with his first hunt. Stefan hadn't wanted to hunt. He had protested that it was considered animal cruelty since the furry little ones are defenseless against attacks. But Damon had insisted.

_Father will not be happy if he learns of your lack of knowledge on something as basic as hunting as a member of the Salvatores._

It had been a rabbit, smaller than the average, but his brother had been so proud. Just as the older brother instincts kicked in and he had smiled and ruffled those brown locks.

Yet who is he kidding? The human Stefan and the human Damon died the day they had been shot in 1864. He himself is far from the one he had been.

Stefan speaks up. "If you have nothing else to do, you can leave now." That flicker seems more prominent.

"It seems," Damon murmurs and this time his brother tenses, alert to the strange undercurrent in his voice. It's the kind he uses when he is about to do something noble. Or something especially stupid. "It seems that I am the reason that all of this happened."

His back finally meets the trunk of a tree and he stops. Tilts his head.

_I've heard about you._

Stefan is rigid in his posture, eyes never leaving Damon's.

_The crazy, impulsive vampire._

His mouth seems to work to say something but he doesn't.

_In love with his brother's girl._

"Maybe we miscalculated," the older vampire goes on, vaguely remembering Klaus' words.

Stefan sighs. "Just what do you want, Damon? If you're that unhappy that I saved you, you can go hunt down Klaus, go on a suicide mission."

What _he_ wanted? Damon wants to scoff. He wants many things. Hell, he wanted Katherine. He didn't get her. Not really. Elena is the girl that his brother is in love with, the girl that was never his and never will be. And his brother is basically just a real bastard.

He doesn't know what he really expected. For Stefan to fall on his feet and spill all his innermost feelings and secrets to him? He lets out a resigned sigh.

Damon Salvatore never gets what he really wants.

…

But this time, he will.

"We did it all wrong, Stefan." He can feel the familiar fury and determination thrumming through his veins and he knew with a newfound certainty what he has to do – what he wants to do. The corners of his well-defined lips curl into an unsettling smile. "To kill Klaus and get rid of your Klaus-vendetta, there's one big _obvious_ –" he drags the word "- thing that we missed."

Stefan asks warily, "What's that?"

Damon accentuates his answer with a '_pop_' sound."Me."

The younger frowns at this and his gaze follows his brother in startling clarity as Damon blurs to snap off a branch of a lone tree.

His voice is barely above a whisper, a small ripple in a vast expanse of water. "This, little brother, is what I want."

Half-hidden in the shadows, there is a deadly elegance in the vampire as he steps forward, smile firmly in place and the stake pointed right at his heart.

"What are you doing?"

That same smile morphs into a smirk.

"Goodbye, Stefan."

Stefan blurs to his brother, hand reaching for the stake. He misses and almost slams into a tree as the dark-haired vampire disappears and less than a moment later, he hears a soft gasp.

He turns and is just in time to see Damon fall to the floor in a heap.

* * *

How was that? Were they too OOC? Too confusing? Do leave a review! :D


	2. Chapter 2

**Not Worth Saving**

I look at you and I remember.  
You know, those times we had together?  
Just how did we both forget,  
What it truly meant to be brothers?

Anonymous

* * *

I deeply apologize for the late update. I don't have any excuses but I am sincerely sorry for it. I hope you guys still will read this, though. May be a bit OOC. Do tell if they aren't true to their character.

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Vampire Diaries or any of its characters.

* * *

Stefan's eyes widen in shock. His gaze follows the short distance separating him from his brother. Damon's dark ebony hair waves gently in the cool breeze, his features hidden away from the younger Salvatore.

_Come on, Stefan. Live a little._

Horror dawns on Stefan's features as the incomprehensible slowly forms in his mind. Damon just – his brother just…killed himself? He would laugh, if he could. The simple notion that the arrogant, ever annoying, ever confident Damon Salvatore is capable of doing so is just…not possible.

Stefan stumbles to his feet. Slowly. His eyes never leaving his older brother. A cold, _cold_ feeling seeps through his veins, curling and coating his blood with tense apprehension. He lets out a pained breath. He pushes himself forward, each hesitant step crunching the dead leaves beneath his feet.

He has to see for himself.

But does he want to, really?

_We only get to live once, Stefan. Why hold back when we might only have now?_

_That bright twinkle in blue, blue eyes._

He's near. Maybe two, three steps away? He notices with a sick jolt that Damon isn't moving; he is completely limp, one of his arms splayed haphazardly before him. His right hand loosely holds a thick wooden branch, the other hand hidden beneath his left's. His eyes…Are they closed?

_We can't always guarantee a tomorrow, you know, little brother._

"Damon?" He whispers softly, his green eyes looking out for any movement. That cold feeling slams into his gut yet again. He falls to his knees. Strangely it feels as if his breath has been knocked out of him.

He towers over his brother, his fingers reaching forward to touch that leather jacket. Reaching to pull that shoulder back. Reaching so he could…

_Could what?_ He wonders silently. Check to see if that stake is firmly in place in his heart? See if his brother who for all intents and purposes appears to be dead?

A hint of anger rushes into the younger Salvatore then. How dare he? How dare Damon have the _nerve_ to do something so _stupid_? After everything that he had gone through and done? The feeling does not last. Like waves on the shoreline, the anger recedes as he just stares at the older man.

He can't do it.

There was no way Damon could have missed. _Unless the idiot had done so to give his brother a near heart attack._ Stefan wishes it is so.

"Damon?" he repeats.

He swallows and closes his eyes. Damon would not have done it. He couldn't have. He isn't reckless enough to render what he had done to save him to be for nothing. He inhales deeply.

And pulls his brother to face him.

His eyes widen.

"You bloody jerk."

* * *

"What is _wrong _with you?" Stefan shouts, his eyes a blazing green fire.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Shut up, Damon. _Shut up_."

Damon arches an eyebrow and downs a glass of bourbon. He flicks a glance at his brother and purses his lips. Silently contemplating his choices, he shrugs and stalks off to the living room. "Fine."

A snarl resonates through the boarding house. The older vampire is slammed into the wall; his glass shatters, the pieces scattering across the carpeted floor. He winces, though unsure if at the sharp angle his hands are held at his back, or at the liquid coagulating into the thick heavy fabric. _Damn Stefan._

"_Don't you dare pull that on me and expect to walk off! Damon!_" He snarls.

Damon rolls his eyes. "Leave it, Stefan. I'm alive, aren't I?"

He's pulled back and meets the wall again. He stifles a groan. "Wonderful. So you wanted me alive so you could kick the living hell out of me now?"

Silence meets his retort. He could hear Stefan's heavy breathing behind him, could feel the tight clenching on his arms, how the younger's fingers dug into his skin. Seconds fade into minutes and Damon begins to wonder how long Stefan intends to hold him there. He could of course try to throw him off but he didn't think he was up to it yet. He hadn't taken more than half a blood bag before turning to bourbon. He rolls his eyes. Trust his inane choice to land him in this situation.

He was debating whether he would escape unscathed if he tried to shake his brother off (and lose in the end) or just remain still there 'till Saint Stefan deemed it fit to let him go when the younger Salvatore slowly released him.

He stretches his fingers to allow easier circulation into his hands but otherwise doesn't move. He flicks his gaze to the left but could tell that Stefan is still behind him. He sighs.

"You gonna kill me if I move?" he asks somewhat tentatively. Silence. "Or will you ignore me?"

Hands grabbed his shoulders and Damon finds himself staring at Stefan, the latter's expressions dark and stony.

"How _dare_ you," Stefan hisses, his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. "Do you know what you could have _done_?" He punctuates every word, his voice a raging shout near the end.

Damon blinks. "Do you honestly want me to reiterate every single thing that happened to prove a point?"

Stefan's forest green eyes clouds in undiluted anger. "You. Tried. To. Kill. Yourself," he hisses through clenched teeth.

"Collateral damage, Stefan. No biggie."

Veins slithers its way through Stefan's features, casting him as more than the average hunter. His eyes, darkened by the lack of light shining into his features, glares at the older Salvatore, screaming volumes of the deep, saturated fury that pulsed beneath the green orbs. His parted lips revealing sharp fangs, he tightens his grip on Damon's shoulders.

"_Collateral damage?_" he repeats incredulously. "_You_…you tried to _die_ for what? To spite me?" Stefan pushes Damon back against the wall and takes a few steps back.

Damon watches warily as his sibling shoves a hand through his hair, leaving a messy mop of brown tresses laying in its wake. His expression is blank.

"You would just throw back whatever I had done to save _you_ by dying on me, Damon?" Stefan starts to pace. "How could you?" He rounds on Damon when no reply was forthcoming. "Answer me!"

The older Salvatore shrugs lightly, evoking a harsh growl in reply. "Easy there, Stef. You forget. Maybe I didn't want to be saved."

"_I already did!_" Stefan snarls. "What would your death achieve? One less person to fight against Klaus while all of us are struggling to take him down!"

Damon's eyes flashes in anger. "Is that all it comes down to? Killing Klaus?" He stalks forward to stand not a hair's breadth away from Stefan. "If you want him to die so much, go find someone else who won't get in your way."

"You aren't allowed to be angry, Damon. I sacrificed almost everything for you! I left for _you_. I killed all those people for _you_. And my freedom? I gave that up so _you_ could live!" He stops and inhales loudly. "And you would die at your own hands just to get back at me?" The plain disbelief rings clear in his voice.

Damon's features tear into a grimace. "How many times must I knock it into your head? I. Am. _Not._ Worth. It."

"You don't get to decide that!"

"Why not?"

"Because! Elena said so many times herself that she didn't want to be saved. Why is she still alive?"

Damon can't help but smirk at that. "I'm sure you remember you played a big part in ensuring her continual survival too, little brother."

"This is not funny, Damon," Stefan snaps.

Damon sighs. "Elena is different. You know that. I don't even get why we're having this conversation. Is the switch on, Stefan? Is this why you're behaving as if what I did had been the most blasphemous thing in the world?"

Stefan fixes a wide-eyed stare at his brother, not digesting fully the meaning of his brother's words. A moment later and that look is gone, replaced by unadulterated rage. "You know what is worse than seeing _Elena_ die, Damon?" he says softly.

Cautious blue eyes meet two guarded green orbs.

"It's seeing the only family you have die because they couldn't accept that maybe you wanted them to live."

With one last scathing glare, Stefan backs away and storms to his room. A loud slam resonates through the boarding house. Damon glances the way his brother had left and bites his lips.

_Uh oh. Maybe I was too impulsive._

* * *

"So how did your talk with Stefan go?"

"Not bad. Went to see him again yesterday."

Elena shoots him a pointed look. "And?"

Damon shrugs at her patronizingly. "Nothing."

Disappointment flits across her features. "He's just so…different now." She folds her arms and hugs herself. "I don't know how to reach him."

"Other than confessing you undying love?" Damon says sarcastically. He grins at the immediate glare sent his way. "Well, I had a great idea, except it kind of backfired. A bit."

Elena frowns. "What idea? And you just carried it out? Why didn't you discuss it with me?"

"It was more of an impromptu act that was brought about by…not thinking." Damon rolls his eyes. "Suicide."

Elena stares at him expectantly, as if waiting for him to laugh it off. When the Salvatore only shoots her a solemn look, her eyes widen in shock. "You-you tried to kill yourself?" she asks unbelievingly. Her arms fall to her side as she tries to find something to say. "Damon, are you crazy? What if you really succeeded?"

Damon scoffs. "I would have. Except that little saint in my brother couldn't help but try to rush me." He glances at the incensed gaze he received. "I fell. The stake nicked my heart, I think. Never had a stab hurt that much before." He inwardly winces at the memory.

Elena closes her eyes, as if begging for patience. "Okay. So what did he do?"

He arches an eyebrow at the lack of admonishment. "Yell at me."

"That's it?"

"Yeap. And then pointedly pretending I don't exist."

Elena sighs. She raises her hands in defeat. "I really don't know what to say when it comes to the both of you." She grabs her bag and walks to the door. "I have to meet Bonnie." She pauses with one foot of the door and glares at him. "And don't think I'll forget that you tried to die." The door slams shut.

Why does it seem as if everyone is shutting the doors on him lately?

* * *

He leaves a note on Stefan's bed.

_Stefan,_

_I'm sorry._

_Damon._

_P.S. Mission 101. 8 o'clock at Mystic Grill. Come with me?_

* * *

Damon waits impatiently at the entrance to the grill. He glares at the clock.

_He's late._

He knows he should have waited inside. And after all that pain in writing that stupid note.

"I see someone's been waiting long."

Damon scowls at the familiar voice. He turns to see Stefan leaning against a lamppost.

"You're late."

"By two minutes."

"That your little rebellion, _little_ brother?"

Stefan eyes him critically. The air seems to tense under the pressure, cloaking the Salvatores in heavy silence, their gaze challenging and intense.

Stefan finally breaks the silence. "Let's go then." He cracks a small smile. "Mission 101."

Damon hides a smile and claps his brother on his back. "Mission 101."

* * *

Please review! :)


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